


Makeup, Make out

by sonderings (lacunaletters)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25602793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacunaletters/pseuds/sonderings
Summary: Model Oikawa being your little rascal (briefly implied nsfw)
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	Makeup, Make out

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my revamped writings that was posted a few years ago under lacunaletters.

Palm pressed to jaw, fingers resting against a cheekbone—the face you have in your hand is one you’ve touched and held many, many times.

Like an affectionate cat rubbing against their owner, the said face nuzzles into your touch. The small smile across his mouth sighs in content, and he blinks up at you cutely with fondness.

“Tooru,” you heave sternly. “For the last time, close your eyes.”

Oikawa’s eyes bat twice, quickly and innocently. “But I want to look at you.”

“And I want to finish doing your makeup because you’re on set in five minutes,” you reason.

His expression now transforms into something mischievous, a lightbulb flashes in the sudden dark look of his gaze.

“If I close my eyes,” he murmurs lowly, his warm hand reaching to encase yours. “Will you kiss me?”

He tilts his head to the side in a taunting manner as he watches your focus go to his mouth, a sly smile in the curl of his lips at your reaction to his question. With the way you’re looking at him now, he knows all too well of what you want to do.

You spend about ten seconds fighting between priorities and desires before you move your face closer to his, foreheads nearly touching, lips almost so. 

“Close your eyes, and you’ll find out,” you tease.

Oh? His eyebrows lift up and he smiles pleasantly. Oikawa is a good sport, deciding to play by your rules to his game. He makes a show of fluttering his lashes as his eyes shut ever so slowly.

In this little moment, you remind yourself that Oikawa must definitely be another synonym for beautiful somewhere in some dictionary. Correction—he’d probably have a definition of his own. _Oikawa Tooru: A picture-perfect, alluring being made up of brown, soft strands of hair. He has angelic, arching eyebrows that gracefully frame his features of sweet doe eyes which lead a delicate arch to the point of his pretty nose and down to the bending bow of his lips._

Lips that are indeed, _very_ tempting to kiss.

Nevertheless, there’s a good and bad time for everything. Oikawa doesn’t hesitate to hide his groan of disappointment, whining your name shamelessly when he doesn’t feel anything except for a soft brush on his eyelids.

“We’re at work,” you gently remind him.

“We’ve done worse,” he coolly reminds you.

You decide to not respond and concentrate on the beige tone and shimmer of his eyeshadow. 

“Keep your eyes closed, please,” you order, and Oikawa obeys with a huff, doing his best not to fidget as he feels the pressure of an eye pencil tracing just above his lashes and along the inner corner.

In an attempt to persuade you still, Oikawa puckers his lips to make continuous smooching noises at you. It’s cute. A little distracting, but cute.

“A little kiss never hurt anyone,” he persists, pouting in a tiny voice.

You scoff at that. “I swear that’s exactly what you said at last week’s shoot right before we fucked in the dressing room. I’m pretty sure the door wasn’t even locked.”

“Mhmm, _seeee_? It doesn’t hurt.” 

His hands find your waist with ease, and his fingers tap against you impatiently. (”Can I open my eyes now, pretty please?” “Yes, you may, pretty boy.”)In the background, the murmur of the photographers, other makeup artists, models and crew members are scattered meters away. Both wings of Oikawa’s eyeliner are done now, almost as sharp as the look you have ready for him as he opens his eyes.

“You exhibisionist, you.” you tut playfully, waving your finger. 

Oikawa rolls his eyes dramatically. “I’m an itty-bitty exhibitionist, sue me. Like you’re one to talk,” he clicks his tongue with sass. He pulls at your waist, voice dropping. “But this time, all I’m asking for is one, measly, innocent, little-”

“Nope!” you interrupt. A smooth, creamy texture presses across his mouth suddenly, stopping him before he can continue. “Whoopsie-daisy, some of your lipstick is already on! Don’t open your mouth to talk, pl- Tooru. No. _Tooru._ ”

He frowns, but you apply the lipstick on with skilled finesse nonetheless even when his lips are turned downwards.

“Ta-dah! Now we’re done,” you cackle almost wickedly. You tuck your fingers underneath Oikawa’s chin, turning his frowning face from side to side for a brief look-over at his finished appearance. To your delight, despite your lover being particularly uncooperative and fussy today, the makeup is flawless as usual. Pleased with the results, you release your hold on him.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Oikawa grumbles underneath his breath, and gives you a grumpy glare that you ignore, now busy with cleaning up your station. “You’re all ready, but double check in the mirror. See if I missed anything or if there’s any touch-ups I need to do,” you instruct him as you close the palettes and shake out the brushes.

It’s oddly quiet for a while. You’re about to ask him if anything needs to be done before- “Oh!” Oikawa gasps, alarmingly. “Something smudged.”

“Seriously?” you sigh, quickly placing down the compacts in your possession and patting your hands on your makeup apron. You turn to Oikawa, arms reaching for his face. “Let me see-”

His reaches for yours in unison, and the next thing you know, the mouth you’ve had pressed to yours many, many times is kissing you deeply with a familiar, tender passion. Warmth flutters in your chest alongside a quiet hum in your head. Even though it’s less than half a second, it leaves you breathless and helplessly wanting more.

As Oikawa separates from the kiss, you feel him mumble, “Oops,” just above your lips before pulling away. 

There is noticeable, smeared _No. 637, Blushing Nude_ across his mouth, and as he stares at the stain of pink on yours, mirroring his, he grins all too merrily in satisfaction.

“Something smudged!” he repeats, practically singing with glee.

His hands squish your flushing cheeks with affection while you splutter incoherencies, torn between gripping the well-ironed collar of his shirt (albeit they’re his clothes for the shoot) to shake him relentlessly or furiously kissing off the smugness in his awfully happy smile.

Oikawa can’t help but laugh at your expression, and his thumb comes up to brush against the color on your lips, messing up the splotch of lipstick even more. He smooshes his thumb up, down, diagonally—in every direction and motion you can name, and you’re tempted to bite the digit off. 

He’s squeaky with giggles and there is visible steam fuming out of your ears from his antics. Still, amidst all this, Oikawa’s words turn all exasperation into forgiveness and your insides melt into mush when he tells you, ever so sweetly and oh, so deeply in love, “That color looks good on you.”

Oh fuck it, why not do a bit of both. You wrinkle his top with your hands and eagerly press your own smile to his.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [@aoba-j](https://aoba-j.tumblr.com)


End file.
